


Roughed Up

by FreshBrains



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Injury, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2781584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You ruin me every bloody day, James,” Alfred said, scrubbing his hands up to the wrist in the kitchen sink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roughed Up

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comment_fic prompt: _any, any, nosebleed_

“Stupid young thing,” Alfred grumbled, fingers pressed firmly against the bridge of Jim’s nose.  His grey waistcoat was streaked in Jim’s blood; as were the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.  “Coming here, bleeding like a stuck pig.  Gave the young master a scare.”

“Sure,” Jim said dryly, his voice thick and nasal, “the young master.”

“Lean forward,” Alfred said sternly, and whenever Alfred used that voice, Jim obeyed.  “So who got a piece of you this time?”

“No one special,” Jim said, shivering at the slow ooze of blood still coming from his nose, the throb of the reset break making his face ache.  “I wish you wouldn’t use your handkerchief for this.”

“Well, it’s clean, for chrissakes,” Alfred said, gently releasing the bridge of Jim’s nose.  “You hold now, I’ll get you tidied up.”  He deftly undid the buttons on Jim’s shirt with one hand, stripping him quick and efficient to the waist like they were having their usual Friday evening quiet rendezvous rather than a post-arrest clean-up.

“I know it’s _clean_ ,” Jim said, “I just don’t to ruin it.”  He could feel the bleeding start to slow, but he held the monogrammed handkerchief up to his face.  He was glad Harvey finished everything up at the precinct—he hated getting sent to the ER for something as harmless as a busted nose.

“You ruin me every bloody day, James,” Alfred said, scrubbing his hands up to the wrist in the kitchen sink.  “Must say, even though you give me a scare, you do look like something to eat all roughed up like that.”

Jim attempted a smile but winced at the pain.  “It’s all part of the job.  I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Alfred said quietly, an unspoken bond between soldiers.  He returned with a warm, wet cloth and cleaned the dried blood off Jim’s neck and chest.  Jim made a valiant effort not to arch into the touch like a cat and failed.  “What say you to getting these dirty clothes off and running a hot bath?”

“I say that sounds perfect,” Jim said, accepting Alfred’s gentle, perfunctory touches.  “Only if you’ll join me.”

“Well,” Alfred said, coiling a strong arm around Jim’s waist as they made their way to the back of the manor, “I’ve got some blood on me too.  Might as well.”


End file.
